The
process of getting settled in the new city, in the new land, was going smoothly.
We had started getting familiar with how people did things here because we
needed to come and go wherever daily life took us, without being too much of a
burden on our relatives who were so kind as to offer us their homes and we felt
they were already doing a lot for us. We were also pushed by the curiosity of
discovering this new city, which was so very different from our village.

It
wasn’t a coincidence that all the paesani (countrymen) lived in the same area of
town called the West Side. It was in that central part of the city that the
first Italian immigrants in the area had settled in, and when we got there with
the rest of the flood of post-war immigrants, we found a structured and well
organized community waited for us. On the West Side, small delicatessens and
grocery shops had sprung up, where the owners used to speak a strange dialect, a
mix between badly pronounced English words and words taken from their own
dialects which came from every region in Northern Italy. For instance, the two
older sisters who had a grocery store were of Italian descent, but were born in
America. However, to make it easier for the new customers, they forced
themselves to speak what they called “taliane”. In the store, when they saw us
coming, they used to welcome us with a “bon giorn commo sta?” (Good morning; how
are you?-very poorly pronounced). We would subtly look at each other and laugh
at those well-intentioned women for that dialect from nowhere.

Then immediately, to
show how WE had learned English, we would answer: “gud moni”. The women
laughed at our strange “good morning.” I will never forget the day that
a man came to buy groceries for his aunt. He asked the women a dozen of
“legs”. They did not understand and asked him to repeat his order and he
said “na dozzina de legs”.Which is “a dozen of legs”. They continued to
be befuddled about his order, because the man kept asking for a “dozen
of legs” and they thought he was saying that on purpose to make fun of
the two older sisters.

He did not
realize that this was how you said the word for your lower limbs in
English: legs. It was very frustrating because nobody could understand
him; the man started making gestures with his hands. Gestures and signs
made the situation even worse for him. His face had gotten all red with
frustration, but he persisted. He couldn't come back home without the
stuff for his aunt. Visibly upset, he screamed “cluck-cluck.” Finally,
they understood that he wanted a dozen eggs, not a dozen legs. It was
very common for such comical scenes to play out involving immigrants who
were newly arrived here.

On Sunday
afternoons, I used to go out with my friends for on walks to explore our
new neighborhood. Guided by our high spirits, we would wander through
the streets and alleys that were not at all familiar to us. Of course,
we would get lost and panic. Thankfully, some person passing by would
notice us and show us the way home. This is how we found a beautiful
park that was not too far from our houses. Young people that were our
age used to like to go there too. Immediately, that became our Sunday
meeting point. We met other people, and romances and friendships started
to develop. I talked about it with my aunt and she told me that it was
OK to talk outside with boys with others around, but that I should not
spend time alone with anyone. When we felt a little more adventurous, we
would go to the movies. But we needed to have permission from our aunts
to go to the movies. Our aunts were all the same and they would only
give permission after they made sure that we would go and come back
together, and that it was just us “girls,” and no “boys”. We would
promise them it was only us going, knowing that the “boys” were waiting
for us inside the theaters. At the theater, the movie was played
continuously all day. We could stay as long as we wanted with the same
ticket good for the whole day as long as we did not leave the theater.
Each of us paid for ourselves, and then we would pool our money to buy a
pack of chewing gum that we would all share. Inside, we would sit in the
luxurious red and blue velvet armchairs to watch the movie, chewing gum,
exactly like any American young person did.

Maybe it was
looking for that sense of belonging, which was a predominant feeling
needed by young people, the thing which pushed us towards becoming
Americanized, even without our conscious consent. The walk, the movie,
the “chewing gum’ and the “boys”: everything was new and very exciting.
If it wasn't for the homesickness and the fact that I missed my mom,
life would have been perfect.